


You Want Me To Annoy Your Family Again?!

by DeceitfulHonesty



Series: Want To Annoy Your Family This Thanksgiving? Call Skye! [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Continuation of that AU everyone seems to love, Disaster Holiday, F/F, F/M, Family Holiday AU, Thanksgiving AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeceitfulHonesty/pseuds/DeceitfulHonesty
Summary: Skye has been dodging Jemma's family holidays for a year now. Since that fateful night when Jemma decided to bring her to Thanksgiving just to annoy her family, Skye and Jemma's relationship has grown into something real and stable, but Skye still doesn't want to risk another encounter with Jemma's family. This year, Jemma decided to take charge and get them all together in the same room, for better or worse.





	You Want Me To Annoy Your Family Again?!

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand: it's the Want to Annoy Your Family sequel! I know everyone wanted a Christmas follow-up, but after all this time has passed since I wrote the first one, I figured another Thanksgiving one would work better. Reading (or re-reading) the first part is advised, just because there's a bunch of references and exposition in the first bit that will make this story make more sense.  
> Hopefully you all enjoy the shenanigans again!

Jemma prodded the the chicken she was cooking up on the stove absentmindedly. She stared in the direction of the clock on the microwave without really seeing the numbers. She just knew it was about five minutes until Skye was supposed to be home from work. She hadn’t settled on how she was going to broach the subject to her. 

Skye had been dodging family holidays with Jemma for a full year now. After that (intentionally) disastrous Thanksgiving, Jemma’s parents invited Skye and Jemma to nearly every event, mostly at the request of Jemma’s grandmother (who had also coerced Jemma into setting up an internet router at her house because she wanted to 'read up on the lesbians.' Jemma rolled her eyes at nearly everything Helen said, but at least she was trying to understand). 

Despite her family’s effort at hospitality, Skye found a way to dodge every invite. She frequently used work as an excuse. Skye being a freelancer meant she did have an unpredictable schedule most days, so Jemma couldn’t call her out for it. If that didn’t work, she claimed she was deathly ill or found a dog on the way home from the grocery store and had to return it home, which would somehow take seven hours. 

Inevitably, Jemma ended up going to family events alone, when she couldn't weasel out of them herself, and it always led to the same conversation.

“Where’s Skye today?” Evelyn would ask with forced politeness. 

“She’s insert this week’s excuse here,” Jemma would mutter. 

Henry would grunt something along the lines of 'good' or 'don’t need that rabble ruining X holiday.'

“Henry!” Evelyn would scold, sounding scandalized, but secretly agreeing. 

Lance would mutter some agreement, since he was still bitter that Bobbi brought Skye up rather frequently. 

“I just read a story from the internet on the Stonewall Riot. Have you heard of that, Jemma?” Helen would pipe up. 

Shortly after everyone would roll their eyes, down their wine, and move into the living room to sit in front of the TV in silence while Helen tried to teach them about gay rights. 

Jemma sighed and jabbed the chicken again. There was probably too many greens in this recipe for Skye’s liking, but she knew she would grin and bear it. 

Finally, the door swung open and Skye clattered her way inside. Jemma heard Skye sigh heavily, kick off her shoes, and toss her bag on the sofa. Normally, Jemma would remind her to put it away, but she figured she could let it slide this time. 

“Jemma?”

“In the kitchen,” she replied. 

The shuffle of Skye’s feet on the tile floor of their apartment announced Skye’s presence before the lips on Jemma’s cheek did. 

“I thought it was my night to cook dinner,” Skye muttered as she wrapped her arms around Jemma’s waist. 

Jemma smiled. “It was, but I got off early and thought I’d make something a bit special.”

Skye’s attention turned to the simmering pan in front of Jemma. “Looks…great.”

“You won’t even be able to taste the brussel sprouts,” Jemma responded with an eye roll. 

Skye groaned and buried her face in the back of Jemma’s shoulder. “You’re killing me, woman.”

Jemma sighed and bit back the 'I’m actually extending your life' argument that usually followed and just enjoyed Skye’s closeness for a moment. She knew Skye would not be very happy after this conversation. 

Jemma clicked off the heat and moved the pan to one of the cool burners to set for a few minutes and spun in Skye’s arms to face her. 

“You know what I was thinking?” Jemma began. 

“Hm?”

“Are you busy this Thursday night?” 

Skye scrunched up her face and thought for a second. “No, I think the office is actually closed that day, for some reason.”

Jemma mentally breathed out a sigh of relief. It was a pretty safe gamble that Skye wouldn’t keep track of the date, but it was still a gamble. 

“Great,” Jemma replied with a wide, forced smile. “I was thinking we should have a nice, big, fancy dinner that night.”

“Oh?”

Jemma nodded and snaked her arms around Skye’s neck to gently pull her closer. “Yes, we can cook up a big main course, lots of sides and desserts. Then, once we’ve stuffed ourselves, we can just sit and drink a bunch of wine and relax.”

Skye was close enough that their lips were nearly brushing and Jemma had lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. Skye at least had the forethought to shift Jemma a few inches to the right of the hot burner before pressing her up against the counter.

“Sounds fantastic,” Skye muttered. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great, because my family’s coming over for Thanksgiving,” Jemma blurted.

“What?!”

Skye’s hands on her waist stiffened and the heated look in her eyes was instantly replaced by abject horror. 

“It’s been a full year since you’ve seen my family and they’ve been asking about you at every event,” Jemma said. 

“Yeah, because they want to know if you’ve broken up with me yet,” Skye retorted. She disentangled herself from Jemma and leaned on the opposite counter, taking deep calming breaths. 

“That’s…probably true, but the longer you keep skipping out on holidays, the weirder it’s going to look,” Jemma said. 

“Yeah, but I…I can’t—I don’t wa—I mean, the last holiday that I went to wasn’t exactly a Hallmark movie waiting to happen.”

“Yes, well I didn’t originally bring you to make it a Hallmark movie,” Jemma replied. She crossed the kitchen and took Skye’s face in her hands. 

“Why did I originally call you?” Jemma prompted. 

“To annoy your family,” Skye replied sullenly. 

“Yes, which you excelled at and—”

“But, I don’t want to always annoy your family,” Skye cut in. 

Jemma paused and waited for Skye to elaborate. Skye took Jemma’s hands off her face and held them in her own. 

“I was fine being obnoxious to your family, because I wasn’t planning on sticking around. I didn’t know you and I didn’t know them and the odds that I was ever going to see any of you again after that night were slim,” Skye explained. “But then, I actually met you. And you were really cute and for some reason actually liked me, even when I was purposely destroying a family dinner and, now…”

Skye trailed off and took a deep breath. Jemma noticed there were the beginnings of tears in Skye’s eyes. 

“I just want to show them that I’m a person who deserves you and isn’t just a screw up.”

Jemma pulled her in for a tight hug. “You’ve never been a screw up, Skye. You’ve always been a survivor. I have some bad news for you, though: You’re never not going to annoy my family.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. I feel much better now,” Skye grumbled into Jemma’s shoulder. 

Jemma chuckled. “No one is ever going to be good enough in my parent’s eyes.”

“What about Bobbi? They love her,” Skye countered. 

“Bobbi’s a master manipulator. She can make anyone like her,” Jemma replied. “She also with Lance and is better than anything they could have hoped for with him. For me, they won’t be happy unless I bring home a neurosurgeon who graduated from Harvard and comes from old money. And even, then, only if they’re a man.”

“Which I’m sure you could find,” Skye retorted. 

“Possibly. But I don’t want that and I didn’t call one of them last year to impress my family. I called you.”

“Weirdo,” Skye teased. 

Jemma shrugged. “You never had to impress my family. You impressed me. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side to annoy my family. But I do want you by my side.”

Skye pulled back to look at her, as if trying to find some way to get out of it. When she found only resolve in Jemma’s face, she sighed heavily. 

“Fine. I’ll go to Thanksgiving.” 

Jemma smiled and kissed her firmly on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s eat.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Skye muttered so quietly Jemma barely heard. They had been together for a full year and Jemma had never once heard Skye say those words out loud. She turned to respond, but Skye had already shuffled off to the bedroom. 

Jemma let it slide and distributed dinner onto two plates while finishing up her mental preparations for later this week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Skye, are you sure you don’t—”

“I said I got this!” Skye shouted irritably up the stairs. Of all days for the elevator to break in their apartment building. 

Jemma trudged up the last few stairs with her bags and down the hall to unlock the door. 

Skye stomped slowly up the stairs a few paces behind, arms laden with groceries. Each arm had several bulging bags filled with their Thanksgiving fixings slung over them and balanced between them was a massive turkey. Skye was wheezing as she mounted the last steps, but Jemma wasn’t going to make the mistake of offering to help again. 

Skye waddled through the door that Jemma held open for her and unceremoniously dumped everything on the counter. Jemma shuffled around her and started lining things up on the counter.

“So did you volunteer to host Thanksgiving?” Skye asked grumpily, half-laying on the pile of groceries. “Because this seems like an insane amount of work to do voluntarily.”

“I volunteered. It was supposed to be Bobbi and Hunter’s year but they asked if I could take over since they just eloped to Las Vegas and didn't think they would have time to prepare,” Jemma replied.

“Huh.” Skye looked impressed. “I can see Hunter doing that, but Bobbi doesn't seem the type to elope.”

“You'd be surprised,” Jemma muttered. “Anyway, ready to start cooking?”

Skye looked at her like she had grown a second head. “I’m ready to go back to sleep, if that’s what you meant. It’s barely seven in the morning.”

“Not an option! We need to get the turkey cleaned, seasoned, and in the oven within the next—” Jemma checked the clock, “—twenty-three minutes if it’s going to be anywhere near done when everyone arrives. Not to mention we have to squeeze in the sweet potatoes, the stuffing, the pecan pie—”

Skye’s loud groan cut her off. “Fine, let’s get to it. I’ll start mashing the potatoes.”

The three days between Jemma breaking the news to Skye and the morning of Thanksgiving passed way too quickly. Skye was a constant ball of nerves, pacing and fretting over every detail out loud. 

Jemma was more quietly panicking. This was the first year she had hosted Thanksgiving and she had no idea what she was doing. She read thousands of cooking tips online, organized their apartment and rearranged the dining area at least a dozen times, and spent that last 48 hours assuring her mother that yes, everything was going to be fine and no, she didn’t need any help. 

Skye quietly mashed the potatoes in the corner of the kitchen with a bit more force than Jemma thought was strictly necessary, while Jemma got to work on the turkey and gradually crossed off each task according to Jemma’s strict schedule that she had mapped out. 

Eventually, they fell into a rhythm like they always did when they cooked together. They moved around the small kitchen with ease, deftly sliding past each other with mixing bowls or trays held over their heads to not jostle the other’s work. Full sentences didn’t needed to be spoken to pass knives and spices back and forth. 

Once everything was in the oven that needed to be, Jemma grabbed dirty dishes to throw in the sink. She turned back toward the sink with a pile of dishes in her arms to find Skye planted in front of her holding two pies. 

“Pies are done,” she announced proudly. One was pecan and the other pumpkin and, though they wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, they looked edible and that’s what mattered. “Why do we need two pies, though? Aren’t there like six of us?”

“Eleven, actually. The kids can't eat pecan and the adult can’t stand pumpkin.” Jemma sidled around Skye and dumped everything in the sink and started running the water. 

“That’s fa—wait, kids?” Skye squeaked.

“Yes, my cousin is bringing her triplets. I told you this.”

“Triplets?!”

“Yes, they just turned five.”

“ _Five_?!” 

Jemma turned toward Skye. “Why are you panicking? You’re great with kids.”

“Yeah, but—” 

“Skye, it will be fine. They’re only children,” Jemma consoled. “And they’re going to be here in an hour, so you may want to start getting ready.”

“Shit,” Skye hissed. She set the pies down and darted into the bedroom. 

Jemma finished drying the dishes and tidied up the dining room again. Everything was set out already, from the wine glasses and utensils to the few matching plates that they had. A smaller table was set up just beside the main dining table that the triplets would sit at, since there was barely enough room at the table for all the adults. Jemma smoothed out the tablecloth one last time and she decided to go get changed as well. 

Skye was in the bathroom, very gingerly putting on makeup and cursing to herself. Jemma let her be and rummaged through her closet to find the outfit she had picked out. 

“Damnit. Jemma, is my eyeliner too thick?” Skye asked. 

“Given that the last time you saw them, you had used up an entire eyeliner pencil, I wouldn’t….what on earth are you wearing?”

Skye stood in front of her wearing a button up shirt and a cardigan that she had definitely stolen from Jemma’s closet and her hair was done up in a loose bun. Her makeup was extremely conservative, but she had just enough on to look like she made an effort. 

Skye looked herself up and down. “Does it look bad?”

“No! No, it just doesn't look…like you.”

“Well, 'me' is black leather jackets and torn jeans, and we already tried that one,” Skye replied with a shrug.

“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Skye fidgeted with the end of her cardigan while Jemma located the shirt she was going to wear. Jemma tugged off her gravy stained T-shirt and tossed it into hamper across the room. Then she noticed Skye’s eyes fixed on her. 

“What?” 

Skye sidled up to her. “You know, we have some time to kill. Maybe we could do something to take the edge off a bit.”

“Anything to make you unwind,” Jemma responded. She slipped an arm around Skye’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. 

In the millisecond before their lips met, the doorbell rang and they both froze.

“Shit.”

“I’m not ready,” Jemma said

“But—”

“You have to go let them in. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“But—”

“ _Go_!”

Jemma shoved Skye towards the door and scrambled to pull on her clothes. Skye shot her one last look that read more like 'I’m marching to the guillotine' than 'I’m answering the door.'

Jemma tugged off her dirty jeans and fished around for her nice dress pants while listening to who was at the door. Once she was dressed, she ran a brush through her hair and then hovered at the closed bedroom door a minute. 

It was her cousin, Stacy, at the door with her kids. Jemma could hear Skye introducing herself with a tone that sounded, to Jemma, very forced. It seemed to mirror Stacy’s tone perfectly though, so Skye was doing well so far. Stacy introduced herself in return and the triplets, Sara, Terra, and Bradley, and they mumbled their quiet hello’s.  

“Would you like some wine?” Skye asked Stacy. 

“Yes, please. Do you have any Chardonnay?”

“Of course. How about you guys, do you want some wine?”

“…They’re children,” Stacy deadpanned. 

“R-Right, duh. Of course. Would you kids like some….uh….non-alcoholic wine?” Skye stammered. 

Well, that didn’t last long. Time to go save her. 

Jemma bolted out of the bedroom into the kitchen. “The word you’re looking for is 'grape juice,' Skye.”

Jemma shifted some things around in the fridge and dug out a large bottle of grape juice, which she passed to Stacy who was digging plastic cups with lids out of her bag. 

“So good to see you, Stacy. I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Skye,” Jemma greeted. 

“I’ve heard so much about her. It’s nice to put a face with the stories,” Stacy replied. 

“Great,” Skye muttered, once Stacy turned her attention to her kids.

The ding of the oven timer saved them from any more awkward small talk. 

“Oh! Turkey’s done. Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable while we finish up dinner,” Jemma said. 

As soon as Stacy left the kitchen, Skye groaned and flopped against the counter. 

“You’re doing fine, Skye. Relax,” Jemma soothed. 

“I offered her children wine,” Skye hissed. 

“Honest mistake. But I believe you also offered Stacy wine and never opened the bottle.” Jemma handed Skye the bottle of Chardonnay. 

Skye's eyes went wide. “Don’t make me go out there alone again.”

“Would you rather baste the turkey?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means deliver a glass of wine and come right back,” Jemma whispered. 

Skye grumbled the whole time she was uncorking the wine and took out two wine glasses. One she filled up to the brim and took a long drink of before she filled the other a normal amount and took it into the living room. 

While she was gone, the doorbell rang. 

“Shit,” Jemma muttered. Skye was going to have a heart attack. Jemma made sure nothing was going to overcook and called, “I’ve got it” into the living room. 

She swung open the front door to find Lance and Bobbi and ushered them inside. 

She led them into the living room where Stacy seemed to be regaling Skye with a graphic account of the triplets’ birth and Skye was looking rather pale.

“Stacy just got here and you both remember Skye,” Jemma said loudly. 

Bobbi smiled brightly. “Skye, good to see you again.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Lance grumbled stepping a bit closer to Bobbi. 

“Skye, can you help me with the—”

A knock at the door interrupted Jemma’s attempt to extract Skye. Jemma stared at her, trying to gage whether Skye would prefer to stay hear the rest of the birthing story or answer the door. Skye looked too shell-shocked to decide, so Jemma just headed for the door. 

Her parents gave her a quick hug each when Jemma opened the door. Jemma noticed a bulging bag on her mother’s shoulder. 

“What is all that?”Jemma asked. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Evelyn waved her off. “Just a few little things in case you needed some back ups—”

“Your mother cooked a whole Thanksgiving dinner in case you messed something up,” Henry deadpanned. 

“Mother!”

“Henry!”

Henry just shrugged. 

“Mother, I have two doctorate degrees. I think I’m capable of not messing up a turkey,” Jemma snapped.

At that exact moment, the smoke detector in the kitchen went off. Jemma darted into the kitchen and pulled the turkey out of the oven. It only got a little bit extra browned on the top, no major harm done. Jemma would have never heard the end of it. She already needed a drink. 

Jemma pulled everything else that was out of the oven and set it on the stove. She poured herself a glass of wine and brought the rest of Skye’s out to her in the living room. Thankfully, the conversation had switched to something less gruesome, but Skye still looked extremely relieved when Jemma sidled up next to her with a glass of wine. 

The conversation stayed miraculously away from Jemma or Skye for a while as everyone got reacquainted. Jemma tried to hold Skye’s hand at one point to give it a reassuring squeeze, but Skye slyly shifted her grip on her wine glass. Jemma frowned a bit, before she noticed that Skye was standing quite a bit further away than she usually did. And that she was strategically avoiding any kind of display of affection, when usually she was extremely handsy.

Jemma was only vaguely paying attention to Stacy telling everyone about the triplets’ expensive school, when she heard Skye’s name.

“Skye, where did you go to pre-kindergarten?” Evelyn asked.

Skye tensed. “I…um. I didn't?”

Evelyn looked only mildly surprised. “Oh.”

“I had an...unconventional childhood,” Skye admitted.

“Oh,” Evelyn said again. “I understand. Jemma took two years off in middle school to work on her first biology degree at Oxford.”

“Yeah, mine wasn't quite like that. I just went to the public school near St. Agnes’ from first grade to high school,” Skye responded. 

“Oh, my hairdresser’s daughter went there and I think she's about your age. What year did you graduate?” Evelyn asked.

 _Great_ , Jemma thought. Leave it to her mother to bring up all the sensitive subjects off the bat.

Skye fidgeted under everyone's intense gaze. “I...I didn't.”

Evelyn, Stacy, and Henry looked visibly affronted. 

“Well, when you're about to age out of the foster system and your only possession is an broken-down van, you have slightly different priorities,” Skye said bitterly. She instantly seemed to regret her tone. “Does anybody else need more wine? I need more wine.”

Everyone was silent as Skye stalked out of the living room. Luckily, they only had to sit in awkward silence for a few seconds until the doorbell rang. 

“I got it!” Daisy called, grumpily, from the kitchen. 

“Must be your grandmother,” Evelyn muttered. 

Sure enough, Helen’s voice filtered through the apartment following the creak of the front door. 

“There she is! My second favorite lesbian!” 

 _Oh my god._ Jemma fought the urge to bury her face in her hands and had another sip of wine instead. 

“Um. Hi, Helen,” Skye muttered sheepishly. Skye and Helen appeared in the living room moments later and two of the triplets ran up and gave her a hug. 

Terra held back and tugged on her mother’s shirt. “Mama, what’s a lesbian?” she asked loudly. 

Every adult in the room froze. 

“Um...it’s where...I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Stacy replied. 

“Why can’t she know now? It’s not inappropriate,” Helen defended. “It’s when girls like other girls, honey. Like your cousin Jemma and her girlfriend.”

“Cool! Can I be a lesbian?” Sara asked. 

“No,” Stacy deadpanned. 

“I wanna be a lesbian, too!” Bradley announced. 

“That’s not how—”

“Now that everyone’s here, shall we start dinner?” Jemma asked loudly.

Everyone quickly agreed and shuffled into the kitchen. Jemma grabbed Skye and started handing her serving dishes to put out on the table. Once everything was set up, she quickly lit the candles in the centerpiece and directed everyone to sit and start serving themselves. Helen and Bobbi both wanted to sit by Skye and Hunter insisted on sitting on the Bobbi’s other side, so Jemma ended up squished in between her father and Stacy on the opposite side of the round table as Skye, who just stared at her with a panicked look.

The family spent some time complimenting all the food and then conversed about their various jobs. When Stacy started describing the most gory infections she had seen working as a nurse, Evelyn hurriedly shifted the conversation onto Skye, who had been trying to make herself as small as possible. 

“Skye, what do you do for a living?”

“I, um. I’m a freelancer for an IT and cyber-security company,” she replied. 

“That’s really interesting,” Bobbi piped up. “How did you get into that?”

Jemma noticed Lance’s face shift into a glare when Bobbi’s attention turned towards Skye. 

“I’ve just always been interested in computer languages and how security programs work,” Skye said. “Then, earlier this year, I got into tro-- got into contact with some of the higher-ups at SHIELD and they offered me a job.”

Henry made a noise of recognition. “We’ve had some people from SHIELD come work on our systems at the office. Good thing, too, because this past year has not been a great time to be in politics. We’ve had Anonymous and The Rising Tide and  all those other rabble knocking around our servers all year, trying to find dirt on everyone in the building. Oh, but I forgot. You’re an anarchist, they’re probably some of your friends,” Henry finished, gruffly. 

Skye gulped. Jemma knew for a fact that Skye did know people in the Rising Tide. 

“I’m, uh. Well, I do think that there’s a lot that could be changed about our political system,” Skye said, delicately. Jemma tried to stifle a laugh. If she didn’t think about how hard Skye was trying to not make any waves, this was almost as amusing as last year.

Henry huffed. “Kids your age just don’t understand how hard the government works--”

“Henry, no one’s saying you don’t work hard,” Evelyn countered, in attempt to keep the peace. 

“No! No, I definitely wasn’t saying that,” Skye agreed. 

Henry grumbled something under his breath, but let the subject drop. Luckily, Lance and Bobbi picked up the slack in the conversation. 

Jemma didn’t hear what they were talking about. She was just trying to get Skye’s attention. When Skye finally looked up from poking the remaining food on her plate, her eyes were wide. Jemma mimed taking deep breaths to her, hoping she would mirror, and gave her a reassuring thumbs-up. 

Skye took a deep breath and smiled in return, looking slightly more calm. 

A tiny, blonde head popped up between Jemma and Stacy. 

“Mama, can we have dessert now?” Sara asked. 

“Did you all eat your green beans?”

“Yes,” three voices chanted in unison. 

“Okay then, ask Jemma and Skye,” Stacy replied. 

A different tiny head popped up next to Skye and she jumped so violently she nearly knocked over her wine glass. 

“Miss Skye, can we have dessert please?” Terra asked. 

Skye caught her breath before responding. “Yeah, of course. Let me go grab it. Is everybody done?”

The adults assured her that they were and Skye started gathering up plates and utensils. Jemma was impressed. Most of the time when they had guests (usually just their friends), Skye was more the ‘you have legs, don’t you?’ style of hostess. 

Jemma stood and helped clear the rest of the plates and followed Skye to the kitchen. 

“It’s going well, I promise,” she whispered into Skye’s ear when they were away from the family. 

“Why do I still feel like I’m screwing up then?” 

Jemma shrugged. “My parents have that effect on people.”

They dumped the dishes in the sink for now and each got to work cutting up a pie. Skye distributed the pumpkin onto three small, plastic plates and then delivered them to the kids, and then circled back to help Jemma bring out the pecan to everyone else. 

“This pie tastes funny,” Bradley commented.

Stacy looked aghast. “Don’t be rude.”

Skye just chuckled. “Sorry, kids. It was my first time making a pumpkin pie.”

“That’s okay. I can’t make pie either,” Bradley said. 

“That’s...reassuring,” Skye muttered. 

The conversation was muted while everyone enjoyed their dessert. Until one of the triplets started wheezing. 

“Skye, is there anything with peanuts in the pie?” Jemma asked, slight panic rising in her voice.

“A little bit of peanut butter, why?” Skye replied. 

Stacy darted from the table and grabbed her purse. Jemma’s eyes went wide.

“Sara’s allergic to nuts!” Jemma hissed. 

Skye’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t. You just said that they wouldn’t eat pecan pie.”

“I said they _couldn’t_ eat pecan pie.”

“That doesn’t translate to ‘deathly allergic to it!’”

“Why did you put peanut butter in a pumpkin pie anyway?”

“ _We didn’t have enough pumpkin!_ I thought it was fine to fill it out!” Skye shouted.

Stacy finally returned with an Epipen and jabbed it into Sara’s thigh. In a few moments, her wheezing slowed and her breath returned to normal while Stacy rubbed her back reassuringly. 

“Alright, she’s in the clear for now. I’m going to take her to the hospital to be safe,” Stacy announced, scooping Sara up into her arms. “Can you all keep an eye on Terra and Brad until we get back?”

“Of course,” Evelyn replied. 

“I. Am so. Sorry,” Skye said to Stacy. 

“It’s okay,” Sara chirped brightly, her voice a little raspy. 

“It’s fine. Honest mistake,” Stacy replied distantly, grabbing her coat. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

And then she was gone and the apartment was silent. Jemma darted into the kitchen to open another bottle of wine. Skye was definitely going to need it. 

When she returned, everyone was muttering vaguely about how they hoped Sara was going to be okay and Skye’s eyes were fixed firmly on her untouched pie. Jemma slid a generous glass of wine in front of Skye before taking her seat again. 

“That was nothing,” Bradley announced. “One time, Sara had peanut M&M’s at school and said she saw Jesus.”

“Bradley! Don’t be dramatic,” Evelyn scolded lightly. 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Skye,” Bobbi consoled. “Even after I was with Lance for a year, I forgot he was allergic to shellfish and made him take me out to a seafood restaurant for our anniversary.” Bobbi chuckled. 

“Hey, that was not funny,” Lance replied, but with a good-natured smile. “My face swelled up so badly I couldn’t drive us home and I had to let you drive my bike.”

“Hm, that was a sweet motorcycle,” Bobbi replied. “I should have poisoned you with crab legs earlier and stolen it.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Evelyn said after the laughter at Lance’s expense died down. “We never did hear how you and Jemma met, Skye.”

Skye blanched and Jemma could feel the color drain from her face as well. They still never worked out their story. At least not one that Jemma’s parents would approve of. 

“Oh, well. It’s, um, it’s really not an interesting story,” Skye muttered. Before anyone could press, she turned to Bobbi and Lance. “How was your Vegas trip?”

 _Uh oh_. Now it was Bobbi and Lance’s turn to go white. 

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Vegas?” she asked. Her voice didn’t change tone much, but it suddenly had a dangerous edge to it. “I thought you went to Denver last weekend.”

Lance and Bobbi both sputtered and looked at each other as they tried desperately to get their stories straight. Skye panickedly looked Jemma. She didn’t realize she should have told Skye that the elopement wasn’t common knowledge yet. 

“Did you go get married by one of those tacky Elvis impersonators?” Evelyn accused. 

It was dead silent for a moment. No one dared to breath. Terra whispered to Bradley, “What’s Elvis?”

“....it was actually Darth Vader,” Bobbi whispered. 

It was like that sentence set off an explosion. Evelyn was yelling about how her only child that’s going to be able to get married eloped to Las Vegas, despite all her Pinterest planning. Helen was yelling that, actually Jemma and Skye can get married now; the Supreme Court said so. Lance was yelling that he was a goddamn adult and could decide how and when he was going to get married. Henry was yelling that Lance shouldn’t speak to his mother that way. 

And Jemma and Skye just sat there. Jemma slumped down in her chair and sighed. Skye’s eyes darted between everyone screaming over each other, like she was trying to figure out how to make this better. 

Skye eventually jolted to her feet to try to restore some order, but ended up bumping the edge of the centerpiece and knocking over one of the candles. The thin, stick candle bounced once on the table, before igniting the linen tablecloth like it was a dead leaf. 

On the upside, it definitely worked as a distraction. All the yelling turned from anger at Bobbi and Lance to _oh my god, the table’s on fire_. 

“Shit!” Skye cursed loudly, forgetting about the small children in the room. She grabbed the nearest glass of wine and dumped it onto the fire. 

Luckily, it put out the small blaze. Unluckily, it doused both Jemma and Evelyn in red wine. 

Skye gingerly set the empty glass back on the table. “I’ll go get some towels.”

Jemma dabbed her shirt off with her napkin and followed Skye into the kitchen. 

Skye was pacing when Jemma found her, mumbling ‘oh my god’ to herself over and over. 

“Skye, you need to relax. It’s not that bad,” Jemma tried. 

“I nearly killed your cousin’s kid and set everyone on fire. I’d say that’s pretty bad,” Skye countered. 

“Well...on the upside it can’t get any worse.”

Skye shot her a glare. “Really reassuring. I feel much better now.”

“I don’t know how to make you feel better. I mean, last year, you threatened to fight my grandmother in the front yard. At least this is all just accidents and accidents happen,” Jemma said.

Skye groaned and leaned up against the counter. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a quiet buzzing. 

That’s when Jemma noticed Skye had her phone in her hand.

Jemma narrowed her eyes. “Who’s texting you on Thanksgiving?”

Skye flushed. “It’s, uh…it’s work. Coulson needs me for some emergency—”

“No.”

Skye quirked an eyebrow. “'Scuse me?”

“I said no,” Jemma repeated. She leaned in close so she could whisper, “You are not leaving me alone here.”

“But—”

Before Skye could form a full protest, Jemma snatched Skye’s phone out of her hands and stuffed it down her shirt. 

Skye gaped. “You think I’m not going to go for it now?”

“You better not,” Jemma replied. 

Despite the threat in Jemma’s voice, Skye dove her hands under Jemma’s shirt. Jemma yelped slightly at the coldness of Skye’s fingers on her bare skin. She clamped her arms down to try to stop Skye from finding the phone. 

“Stop it,” Jemma snapped.

“Just give it to me.”

“No!”

“Come on, I’m gonna get it anyway. Just make it easier.”

“I said no. Get off.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Skye and Jemma both froze. Lance stood in the doorway with a murderous glare on his face as he took in the situation. 

Which was Skye, pressing his baby sister against a counter with her hands up her shirt, apparently against her will. 

“This is not—”

Lance crossed the room faster than either of them would have expected, grabbed Skye by the front of her shirt, and pushed her up against the opposite wall. 

Before Lance could hiss out any number of the threats that Jemma could see brewing in his head, Skye knocked his hands away and punched him in the face. 

“Shit!”

“ _Shit_!”

“Motherf—”

“What the hell?”

Now, Jemma’s entire family congregated in the doorway of the kitchen wearing matching expressions of concern. Blood was pouring out of Lance’s nose and he was cursing up a streak. Evelyn frantically tried to cover two pairs of impressionable ears at once. 

Jemma’s gaze went to Skye. She looked stunned. Her hands were still halfway raised in a defensive posture, but her eyes were darting between Jemma, her family, and a bloodied Lance. 

“I—I’m…I’m sorry,” Skye stammered out. She bolted into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. 

Jemma wanted to run after her immediately, but she had to do some damage control here. Mostly because Lance was bleeding all over her kitchen floor (and blood was impossible to get out of grout). 

Jemma grabbed a handful of towels and thrust them into Bobbi’s hands, who was trying to get a better look at Lance’s face. Next, she grabbed a plastic bag and stuffed it with ice from the freezer to pass over to him as well. 

“Will someone tell me what the hel-heck just happened?” Evelyn demanded. 

“Jemma’s crazy girlfriend punched me in the face,” Lance groaned. 

“Why would she do that?” Bobbi asked. 

“I was trying to defend my little sister.”

“From Skye?”

“Yes!” Lance shouted and then groaned in pain. “I saw her...assaulting Jemma.”

“You saw nothing of the sort,” Jemma snapped and jammed the bag of ice onto his face, not caring when he whimpered in pain. “What you saw was me trying to keep Skye from leaving because you all were scaring her off!”

No one had anything to say to that. They just shuffled their feet awkwardly. 

“Honestly, she’s trying her best to impress you and you all keep acting like absolute assholes!” Jemma continued. 

Evelyn gasped and covered the nearest triplet’s ears. 

“She wasn’t all that concerned with impressing us a year ago. What changed?” Henry asked. 

“I—I…”

Every eye in the room was on her. She couldn't lie her way out of this one. 

“I found her online,” Jemma mumbled. “We had only met for the second time last Thanksgiving because… I hired her specifically to annoy you all.”

An audible gasp circled the room. Skye would probably be pissed at Jemma for telling her whole family this, but Jemma couldn’t lie about it anymore. 

“So has all this been a lie?” Evelyn asked. 

Jemma shook her head. “That only part that was a lie was everything that happened last Thanksgiving. After that, well, Skye took me by surprise.”

A small smile pulled at Jemma’s lips as she thought back on all the memories she and Skye had made over the last year. From their casual Christmas (since they had a snowstorm last year, so Jemma got out of her family holiday) where they spent three days in their pajamas watching Christmas-themed slasher movies, to Skye’s manic joy when she got her job and everything in between. Jemma couldn’t believe it had only been a year and Skye was already in integral part of her life. She couldn’t imagine Skye not being with her anymore. 

Jemma’s cheeks flushed slightly when she realized her family was still staring at her, waiting for more of an explanation. Well, except for Lance, who was trying to peer around his rapidly swelling face and an ice pack. 

Jemma grabbed another bottle of wine from the fridge and smacked it on the counter in front of her family. 

“I’m going to go talk to Skye now. The rest of you, have another glass of wine, relax, and maybe try to be a little less overbearing when we come back,” Jemma snapped. It was strange to have all the appalled looks directed at her this time instead of Skye, but she was willing to take it. 

Without another word, Jemma turned on her heel and marched towards the bedroom. 

The lights were still off when Jemma entered and it took her a few seconds for her eyes to adjust once she closed the door. She couldn’t find Skye at first, but once she fully got used to the darkness, she spotted the top of Skye’s head peeking up from the side of the bed.

“Skye?” Jemma tried softly. 

No response. 

Jemma rounded the corner of the bed to where Skye was sitting on the floor. Even in the low light, Jemma could tell Skye had tears streaming down her face. 

Skye kept her eyes fixed to the ground until Jemma sat beside her with her back against the bed. 

“I’m sorry,” Skye whispered. “I tried to just not ruin something for one night and I ruined it anyway.”

Jemma sighed. “You didn’t ruin anything, Skye.”

“Your entire family hates me, Jemma. Except maybe your grandmother, for some strange reason.”

“Nobody hates you.”

“What about Lance?” Skye countered. 

Jemma sighed. “Well, he’ll probably be unhappy with you for awhile, but this isn’t the first time he’s been punched in the face. Though, you know he’s all talk and wouldn’t have done anything to you so you didn’t have to punch him.”

Skye sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, it was just...instinct, I guess. You forget that I was legally homeless for quite a few years. I got into some hairy situations and had to learn how to get out of them. One of which is to hit before the other guy can.”

Jemma didn’t know what to say to that. She just slipped her hand into Skye’s and squeezed firmly. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Jemma muttered, after a few minutes of silence. 

Skye scoffed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do. I forced you into this family dinner thing, even though it made you uncomfortable and everything that’s happened tonight has just been because it stressed you out so much,” Jemma said. “I shouldn’t have pushed it and just accepted that you and my family weren’t going to mix.”

Skye huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m going to apologize again for being such a baby about all of this. Last Thanksgiving really was fun. I don’t know why this was had to be so stressful.”

“Last Thanksgiving, there were no expectations. You knew you were walking into a disaster from the start.” Jemma laughed. 

“That’s true. I should have gone in with that mindset again.”

Jemma chuckled to herself and laid her head on Skye’s shoulder.

“You know, we’ll have to go back out there at some point,” Jemma reminded Skye. As much as she didn’t want to move from this position, her family was still waiting in the living room. 

Skye groaned and buried her face in Jemma’s shoulder. “I know.”

Jemma handed Skye’s phone back to her. She had seen the message from Coulson that said, “ _Nothing that we need you for tonight. Happy Thanksgiving!”_ but she figured she would give Skye an out anyway.

“You can go into work if you need to. I can just tell everyone it’s urgent,” Jemma said. 

Skye hesitantly took the phone from her and stared at it, trying to decide what to do next. She tossed the phone up onto the nightstand and shoved herself to her feet. “Let’s go face your family. Maybe you should change clothes first.”

Only then did Jemma remember that she was still covered in wine. 

Skye tugged off her cardigan, handed it over to Jemma, and headed to her closet. 

“What are you doing?” Jemma asked. 

“I’m going to put on something a little more comfortable.” 

Jemma changed out of her wine-stained shirt and into the cardigan (that was definitely hers in the first place, but now had the benefit of smelling like Skye) and waited for Skye to be ready. 

Skye resurfaced looking much more like herself. She had opted for a simple flannel shirt that was casual, but still looked great on her. She took her hair down and let if fall over her shoulders in loose waves, rather than being tied up so tightly. 

Jemma couldn’t help, but smile. She held out a hand and walked with Skye ( _her_ Skye) back into the apartment. 

The family had adjourned to the living room with the remaining bottle of wine, as Jemma had hoped. She could hear the muted conversations filtering through the kitchen. 

Before they headed in, Skye detoured to the fridge, dug into the back, and pulled out one of the nice beers from the package they only broke open on special occasions. Skye grabbed Jemma’s hand and then marched into the belly of the beast. 

The already hushed conversation died the minute the pair stepped into the room. Skye took a deep breath and beelined over to the couch that Lance was draped across, moaning about his nose while Bobbi looked on without pity. 

Skye held the beer in front of his face so he could see it beyond his swollen eyes. Lance eyed the beer, and then Skye, suspiciously, but eventually took it from her hands and sat up. 

“I’m—I’m sorry I punched you,” Skye said to Lance. “You startled me and I just kind of reacted, but that’s no excuse. And I want you to know, I would never do anything to hurt Jemma, ‘cause I—I love her and never want anything bad to happen to her, especially not because of me.”

Lance silently stared at her for a few long moments. He seemed to be sizing her up, looking for any trace of dishonesty in her statement. He finally just shrugged and cracked open the beer. “You’ve got a mean right hook, I’ll give you that.”

The entire room, Jemma included, seemed to let out a breath. 

“Is it true you met online?” Sara asked.

“My mom says you’re not supposed to talk to people on the internet, ‘cause they’re all crazy,” Bradley followed up.

Evelyn made a quiet noise of agreement with that statement. 

Skye spun towards Jemma and shot her an exasperated look. Jemma just shrugged sheepishly. 

Skye sighed and turned back to the rest of the family.

“Okay, well. Cat’s out of the bag, then. No need to pretend otherwise,” Skye announced. “Before anyone asks, I’m going to put all my cards on the table. Yes, I put an ad out last year to go annoy someone’s family at Thanksgiving. You guys are the lucky ones who got me. Yes, I was aiming to be as obnoxious as possible in order to piss everyone off.”

Evelyn and Henry huffed and shared a look. Helen looked almost disappointed. 

“Also, I’m not really an anarchist, but I will fight you politically on everything you believe, Henry. Just be ready for it. No, Jemma and I don’t use gross pet-names. And I’ve never slapped her ass, except that one time to elicit a reaction from you all. Well, actually—”

Skye glanced towards Jemma, whose eyes went and she made a ‘cut it out’ gesture. 

“Nope, that was the only time. Any questions?”

The door swung open and Sara trotted in, followed closely by a frazzled-looking Stacy. 

“Hello again, everyone. What did we miss?”

No one had the heart to retell every mishap that had happened while they had been gone. Instead, Jemma made some hot cider for everyone and they took turns asking Skye questions, which she answered frankly, even when she knew it wouldn’t go over well. 

Jemma had to give her parents credit, because they were trying very hard to police their reactions to not offend and even occasionally asking for details (even when Jemma could tell her mother was _horrified_ by the tales of Skye’s previous living situation. 

Still, the rest of the evening went by amicably and without incident. Skye even relaxed enough to pull Jemma in for a chaste kiss when the conversation turned to someone else. 

(Eventually, someone told Stacy what all had transpired while she was in the emergency room with Sara. Never had Stacy been more thankful for a peanut-laced pie than she was at that moment.)

 


End file.
